


past the horizon, in an unfamiliar place

by zora (nico_neo)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brotherly Love, Comfort, Deaf Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, M/M, Sign Language, Sort of? - Freeform, atsumu is a good brother, deaf osamu, supportive atsumu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:16:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nico_neo/pseuds/zora
Summary: Deep down, Osamu waits for the fateful question. But, the comment never gets painted by Akaashi’s hands. It never comes. He never asks.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 130
Collections: Osaaka Week 2020, kagsivity's fic archive





	past the horizon, in an unfamiliar place

**Author's Note:**

> osaaka week again hehe! This piece is for day 2: comfort
> 
> Disclaimer: this story contains a deaf character (Osamu). So, I want to say that i'm not deaf myself so i tried to do as much researches as i could to add to my initial knowledge. I didn't go into details concerning the origin of the hearing loss and mostly tried to search for correct ways to write a deaf character dialogue wise... I hope I did okay and that if anything comes out rude or insensitive, please tell me in the comments!
> 
> Title taken from the lyrics of Rise from Taemin
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Osamu doesn’t know what the world sounds like. He doesn't know what the sound of a busy city like Tokyo is, or feels like. He doesn’t know what the sound of a calmer city like Kobe is or feels like, either. He doesn’t know what his parents and twin’s voices sound like. Osamu doesn’t know what it’s like to hear his brother when he’s screaming his lungs out in victory after a service ace. He doesn’t know how it sounds to actually hear the jabs Atsumu sends his way all the time. Osamu doesn’t know what his own voice sounds like. He doesn't speak anyway, so, it’s not really like anyone knows, in the end. Osamu doesn’t remember hearing the world around him, ever. 

His world has always been quiet, slow and faint buzzing sounds inside his head. The only thing he is able to hear are his own thoughts. Spoken in a voice that surely isn’t his own. Only a chimaera. Osamu had surely spoken - tried to - when he was younger. He could remember moments of pure frustration and hatred when he couldn’t hear what was coming out of his own mouth and he saw his twin and parents’ confused face, meaning they surely didn’t understand a thing he had been saying. How could they? He couldn’t correct the sounds coming out his lips when he couldn’t hear them to begin with. So, Osamu deliberated to not try to speak at all. It has been easier this way. Eventually, he had settled to learn and use sign language - their whole family did, he hadn't been alone. And it has been a great decision, considering how Atsumu still teases him about the way he cried like a baby the first time his parents signed back to him.

Killing two birds with one stone, Aran - by extension of mixing with the twins for so long - had joined and learnt sign language to communicate with him better. They shitted on Atsumu’s back together in sign language when the older twin wasn’t looking, Osamu loved it. In highschool, when Atsumu exposed his twin’s situation to the volleyball team, if coach Kurosu had been reluctant at first, when he saw how easily and without much difficulty Osamu could move on the court thanks to a single eye contact with his brother or teammates and be there to meet Atsumu’s set, he made efforts to accommodate Osamu’s needs. Not that Osamu really needed it, Atsumu, Aran or even Suna - the middle blocker didn’t look like it but he was actually better than Atsumu in signing sometimes, that’s a fact Osamu liked to remind to his twin - could always recall to him what was going on, but he appreciated the thought. 

If Osamu found Kita scary even without hearing him, getting scolded by their captain - during the twin’s second year mostly - in sign language was definitely scarier. But, Osamu liked to think Kita secretly had a softest spot for him and didn’t chide him as much as Atsumu. Probably because of lack of ways to sign, but a man can dream, can’t he? Akagi quickly got the hang on signing as well, and Osamu was pretty sure the libero had been babying him all this time. Oh, well, that earned him free food after practice so he wasn’t complaining. Suna always made sure to show him subtitled videos, or to choose subtitled movies when they were having sleepovers. The middle blocker hid everything behind a bored and lazy face, but Osamu knew it was his best friend’s way of showing he cared. And that he was paying attention. Osamu could see it in his body language, anyway. Just the fact that Rintarou wasn’t solely focused on his phone when Osamu was talking to him gave it away. Osamu never told the middle blocker, but he was grateful. 

That was when he was seventeen. Now, Osamu is twenty three and he knows the world won’t accomodate to him. He’s the one who is going to have to accomodate. Even more when he’s the one owning a restaurant. And that said restaurant is an actual and immediate success. He has his parents’ and partners help in Kobe, so, it’s alright. He mostly focuses on just cooking, shaping and filling the onigiri while his coworker notes down the orders. But, now Osamu is twenty six and he just opened the Tokyo branch of  _ Onigiri Miya _ . It’s Tokyo. There’s no one to help. It’s the unknown. It’s not the seashore of Kobe anymore, but the busy and loud Tokyo. In Tokyo, Osamu doesn’t have his restaurant in a relatively calm and unbusy street. In Tokyo, Osamu is in the middle of the city center, the streets are filled with people of all ages. The cars are honking, motors are throbbing. In Tokyo, Osamu doesn’t have any relatives or coworkers. In Tokyo, Osamu is alone. In Tokyo, just like in Kobe, Osamu can’t hear a thing.

The opening, just like the original Hyogo branch, is a success. People fill the restaurant in thick lines, people eat joyously or order take outs to eat back at their office, back at their house, with friends or families. But, Osamu can’t hear a thing. And he’s having a hard time keeping up. His eyes and his head hurts from reading on people’s lips. He’s used to it, reading lips. But not so much during the day and for such a long period of time in one go. 

For the first month, he went to bed with a throbbing headache and didn’t have any more strength to get into his sleeping attire. He simply crashed in bed and woke up at the sound of his alarm. He always had a text - or several - coming from Atsumu - some were from Rintarou but it was mostly memes most of the time - in the mornings. They were mostly sent during the evening but Osamu was too exhausted to even think about looking at his phone. It was texts like  _ i hope you’re regretting your decision of abandoning me _ ,  _ you could at least answer me, ungrateful brat _ . Sometimes it was volleyball rants. Others, though those were rare, it was Atsumu genuinely and seriously asking him how he was doing. With the unspoken promise of coming to visit soon. When it was those kinds of texts, Osamu’s only answer would be  _ head hurts _ . If Osamu didn’t reply too fast for his twin’s liking, Atsumu would FaceTime call him. And, Osamu would never admit it out loud, but being able to  _ finally _ sign and see someone - even if it was Atsumu’s tadpole face - signing back was  _ relieving _ . His brain didn’t have to focus on forming the movements of a mouth into words and could finally rest. Sign language and observing is Osamu’s automatism, just like talking is other people’s.

After the first month, Osamu had printed a little cardboard he displayed on the shop’s front door, and one near the counter. It says:  _ Don’t talk too fast nor too slow if you order verbally, so I can read your lips! If you want to be sure I understand everything, you can write it down!  _ With a little international deaf symbol on the bottom corner. It’s Rintarou who gave him the idea. The Raijin player had said it will probably save him from incessant headaches. It, indeed, does. Osamu told him to visit sometimes. To which Suna had replied with a TikTok video and a thumb up. 

The cardboard saves him from pounding headaches, that’s true, but it doesn’t help with the exhaustion. Lots of clients write down their orders, but some don’t even give a shit and Osamu is only left struggling and hoping he got it right. But, again, the world won’t accomodate to him. The worst are the ones who don’t even make efforts to articulate and  _ then _ get impatient when he doesn’t go fast enough for their liking. Osamu just smiles and tries to tone down his annoyance. Not being able to voice his thoughts, Atsumu had pointed to him that he had grown rather expressive with his face. So, Osamu was careful with that. Although, sometimes he wasn’t even trying. That didn’t mean he doesn’t have a genuine smile on his face most of the time, though. Until the exhaustion takes over.

The evening rush is over, and Osamu is about to call it a day and begin his cleaning up routine, when the door opens. Osamu doesn’t hear it, but he sees it on the corner of his eyes. The little green light signaling someone was in also gives it away. He puts his broom and cleaning products away to walk back to the counter instead. The man who had entered is strangely familiar. Osamu is pretty sure he has seen him before. Metallic blue eyes behind rectangular glasses, neatly combed and slightly wavy black hair. Oh, right! Nationals. Their third year, when they played against Fukurodani. Osamu smiles when the other man looks at him.

“Fukurodani’s setter?” he signs, without even thinking twice.

It didn’t even cross his mind that Akaashi was not Atsumu, or Aran, or Suna, or Kita, or whoever he played with in Inarizaki and who learned sign language for him. And it dawns on him in the form of marginally widened steel blue eyes. Osamu drops his hands - that he had raised high enough for Akaashi to see - back on the counter and just  _ stops _ . Maybe he even stops breathing. Well, here goes nothing. Except when Akaashi raises his hands to his chest in swift motions.

“Myaa-sam?” he signs back.

This time, it’s Osamu who looks at him with wide eyes. Akaashi looks a bit unsure, but Osamu sees the relief taking place on his face when he smiles. Osamu didn’t even notice he was smiling to begin with, but his cheeks were starting to hurt.

“Yes, hi,” Osamu signs, and a chuckle escapes his lips. “What can I serve you?”

“Grilled salmon,” Akaashi motions. He puts his hands down but raises them a mere second after. “Please.” he adds. He smiles and Osamu could only smile back, as well.

He makes a thumb up to the former setter and gestures to the counter with one of his hands, the other already grabbing some gloves to put on. He turns his back to his last client of the day and gets to work. The exhaustion is taking over his body, but he pushes it away. And the thought of Akaashi knowing sign language was strangely soothing. 

When he turns back again, it’s to hand the finished plate of onigiri to a patiently waiting Akaashi. The other man is seated on the stool right in front of the cash register. Akaashi smiles at him and signs a thank you before starting to eat. Osamu is about to go back to his cleaning routine when one of the former setter’s hands - the one that isn’t holding the onigiri he’s eating - gestures to him. Osamu only looks back at him curiously. Akaashi taps his mouth with a napkin and looks at him again.

“You look tired,” he signs. And Osamu chuckles. It’s only air escaping his lips. He doesn’t know if he could even laugh. Well, technically he could. But, he wouldn’t hear himself nor at which volume anyway, so…

He raises his hands up. “Now, that’s not very nice to point it out,” he smiles, hoping Akaashi would see he is only joking. When the other smirks back, Osamu continues. “But yeah, a little bit. It’s okay.”

Deep down, Osamu waits for the fateful question. Or remark. Or statement.  _ I didn’t know you were deaf _ ,  _ you don’t look like it _ . Osamu got it more than once, he stopped counting during highschool. But, the comment never gets painted by Akaashi’s hands. It never comes. He never asks. Instead, Akaashi makes comments - good ones - on his food. Tells him he thinks  _ Onigiri Miya _ ’s onigiri are the best. That he was expectantly waiting for the Tokyo Branch to open, when he heard the rumors. It’s soothing, watching someone unfamiliar communicate with him in a familiar way. The smooth movements of the former setter’s long and thin hands were easy to understand. Osamu feels like he’s in highschool again, when their class went to see this shadow puppet performance.

Eventually, Akaashi finishes his last onigiri, and they’re both silent. Well, silent for Akaashi. For Osamu, silence is an old friend. It’s the way he lives. In silence. He feels the exhaustion creeping back, and he has to muffle a yawn behind his hand. He doesn’t know if Akaashi has seen him, but when he looks back at the man in front of him, the former setter has a soft smile adorning his lips. And Osamu feels a little vulnerable under his steel gaze. 

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to,” he signs, without really thinking about it. Well, he has Atsumu. But Osamu will never admit it feels  _ nice  _ and  _ comfortable _ to sign on a video call with Atsumu. However, he feels slightly obligated to justify himself. “Other than Atsumu,” he adds.

Osamu sees the way Akaashi’s face alters in something so soft he has the feeling he will have to look away sooner or later. He hasn’t said that in search or pity, or whatever. He was just being genuinely, truthfully honest. He means what he says. It’s nice to not have to adapt and  _ have _ someone adapt to you instead, sometimes. Before he can look away, though, Akaashi’s delicate smile morphes into something more bold. A small smirk.

“Do you want to grab coffee sometime soon?” he asks. He doesn’t even look at his hands as he signs the words. Only at Osamu. Osamu, who needs to look at the pretty hands for a bit longer than usual before his brain can register. He signs the word  _ coffee _ in a questioning manner. Akaashi nods, smirk still in place. “You don’t want to?” he signs again.

Osamu only grins. “That would be nice.”

Akaashi mirrors his grin. He leaves a bill on the counter, stands up and starts to walk to the door. Osamu is about to call it a day when the former setter turns back, making Osamu look back at him. Waiting for closure of this conversation. Akaashi raises his hands up.

“Fine then, it’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! \o/
> 
> Comments and kudos are my serotonin boost!
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokutowantsyou)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/bokutowantsyou)  
> 


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